Spinning in Empty
by evening spirit
Summary: A story where Bellamy is an idiot (but an adorable one) and Finn is messed up (and an asshole). A rock-band AU.


**Spinning in Empty**

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><p><strong>Summary: <strong>A story where Bellamy is an idiot (but an adorable one) and Finn is messed up (and an asshole).  
>A rock-band AU.<p>

**A/N:** **Heed the warnings.** There's smut in this story, but of the angry-sex kind. And then, there's The Sad. Implied mental illness. Implied history of self harm and/or attempted suicide.

Proofread, but not betaed.

The story was written because I was angry (still am, but less) - around the time of the mid-season finale. I think this anger seeped through, so forgive mistakes, please. Take into account that last couple of weeks before the mid-season finale made some heads messed up - mine for sure. Thank you for your understanding. No Finn hate beyond this point.

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><p>It all happened, because Bellamy Blake was an idiot. Monty had said three times that he had to have the backstage pass on him, otherwise the goons at the concert hall wouldn't let him in and Monty wasn't going to run to the door every time one of them forgot the pass, to say that "yes, this is another member of his band". They were all supposed to have their passes with them. Period.<p>

Monty was apparently talking mostly to Finn, while Finn made a point of ignoring all allusions.

Bellamy realized that he forgot to take his pass from the basement after yesterday's practice, at about two p.m. The concert was starting at four, but they were supposed to be there – "Guys, please," said Monty – half an hour earlier. Bellamy needed at least an hour to get to the Weather Hall in Ground Woods, where Monty's band, The Hundred (all five of them), was supposed to open the evening with half an hour gig, before Grounder Commander came on stage to make the public ready for Mountain Men, who were a lead in for the star of the evening, Jaha and the Arkers.

Yeah, their wasn't the most important band of the evening, but still, they had to play and if the bassist didn't show up, that would be kind of a hindrance.

It usually took Bellamy half an hour to get to Monty's house and it was a little less than an hour from Monty's to the Weather Hall. Bellamy tossed his guitar case on the backseat of his ramshackle of a Mustang, threw the bag with clothes he would wear on stage – some glittery t-shirt and black leather pants – next to the guitar and looked critically in the rear-view mirror. He forgo gelling his hair and it stuck in waves and curls to his forehead, like he was a cute little girl. Well, at least he hoped he would still have time to change, because going out in shabby jeans and lame Star Wars t-shirt to complete this hairdo, would be all kinds of awkward.

Oh, well. At least he beat his record, getting to Monty's in just under twenty minutes.

Monty had already left, the house was locked and Bellamy prayed that at least the door to the basement in the back wasn't, because picking up the lock would take additional five minutes off his tight schedule.

It was open. Heaving a sigh of relief, Bellamy trampled down the stairs and stopped gobsmacked at the bottom.

Of all the people he didn't expect to see here, he most of all didn't expect to see Finn Collins.

Finn Collins, of whom Monty whispered to Jasper and Clarke yesterday, that he would drag his sulky ass by his ridiculous long hair, to make sure he wouldn't flake. Even if they could somehow play without Bellamy's bass – Clarke, the second guitar, could do the rhythmic section and she was filling in before Bellamy joined them; in case of absolute emergency Jasper could do magic with his keyboard – a rock band without a lead guitar was a no-show.

Except that Finn Collins's hair was now short, trimmed almost to the skin at the neck, with bangs falling into his eyes. Although, that wasn't a likely reason for Monty not dragging his ass to the concert. Finn sat on his stool, dressed in torn jeans and casual jean jacket thrown over a black tee, and plucked on his guitar like he had no care in the world.

He looked absurdly hot too.

Bellamy gritted his teeth. He couldn't let his urges get the better of him. There were reasons. Scientific reasons. First of all he'd only embarrass himself; Finn wouldn't reciprocate, ever, he was as straight as they come – had had a fling with the band's second guitarist and singer, Clarke, while he had been dating their former bass player, Raven, who, of course, had ultimately left the band. Also, when Octavia had come to pick Bellamy up last week after they'd had five too many beers during the practice, Finn fucking Collins had tried to hit on Bellamy's little sister. Despite the fact that – second of all the reasons Bellamy had to keep it in his pants – Finn Collins hated Bellamy.

He'd hated Bellamy from the moment he first laid eyes on him, or – more likely – even before. Apparently he'd somehow hoped that he would convince Raven to come back. Those two had a weird relationship and Bellamy didn't want to hear about it, because his head was starting to throb whenever Monty mentioned something about Finn and Raven. Actually, Monty looked like his teeth hurt when he was talking about them, so maybe that factored in, too.

For a moment there, Bellamy found it surprising that Finn wasn't the one thrown off the band after the Clarke / Raven conundrum, but then, he was an impossibly good guitarist, co-author of all of the band's original pieces (some with Jasper, some with Monty, some with both of them and at least two with Clarke) and the core member, actually. The three boys had been together since high school. There was no way Finn would ever be thrown off the band, sooner they would all go down. When Bellamy asked about that (shortly after learning from Clarke about the reason for the awkward not-quite hostility between her and Finn), he got a look from Monty that would turn him to ashes if looks could do that, and a curt, "You know nothing about Finn." Well, he could certainly agree with that.

On a side note, it was also surprising that Clarke herself hadn't left, but then, Clarke was made of some different ilk than everybody else. Bellamy knew that, because Clarke happened to be Octavia's best-friend-forever since elementary school and Bellamy's first and last girlfriend.

What reminded Bellamy of the third reason he couldn't let Finn, or anyone for that matter, realize how Finn and his attitude turned him on. Clarke and Octavia were the only people in the world who knew about Bellamy's sexuality. Well, them and four of his exes, with whom Bellamy had no contact whatsoever.

Long story short, Bellamy had reasons to ignore Finn's preposterous hotness.

On top of that, they had a gig to play in – oh! – just about an hour and a half. Bellamy figured that it must have been some dumb luck that he'd forgotten that backstage pass yesterday, because otherwise he wouldn't have shown up here now, to drag this asshole to where he was supposed to be.

"What are you doing here?" He walked through the room in three long stries.

Finn stopped playing and looked up, startled.

Then he squinted and pouted.

"Could ask you the same thing."

Involuntarily, Bellamy cast a glance at the bookshelf – stacked with CDs, what else – and sure enough his pass still sat right where he'd left it last night, mocking him. Hell if he was going to explain himself before Finn asshole Collins, though.

"Okay. You know what?" He folded his arms on his chest and realized it was a defensive gesture, so he unfolded them and rested his hands on his hips instead. Finn's eyes followed his movements, briefly bewildered, then amused. Which was good, because his expression only made Bellamy's anger flare up. "I am done," he uttered. "Why are you always so hostile?"

Finn took his time straightening up, scratched his neck, then shrugged.

"Maybe I don't like you." He looked straight into Bellamy's eyes, impertinent and smirking.

"Yeah." Bellamy tried not to boil. "But why? You didn't like me the moment we met, you didn't even know me."

Finn turned to put his guitar in a case that rested against the wall behind him.

"I don't have to talk to you about this." He shrugged again.

"Don't turn your back on me, man!" Bellamy grabbed his arm and forcefully spun him around. Pulled his jacket down his shoulder in the process and the rim of the tee with it, exposing Finn's collarbone.

Finn pushed Bellamy's hand away with a growled, "Get off me!" They were well within each other's personal space now.

Finn was an inch shorter than Bellamy but his posture was intimidating enough, chin up and forward, burning stare, nostrils flaring and lips in a tight line. He didn't adjust his jacket and Bellamy couldn't tear his eyes away from the skin on Finn's shoulder. He forgot how to speak.

He should have said something. Something clever. Something relevant, that would pacify Finn, discharge all that pent up energy in a harmless way.

But he didn't.

Instead, he licked his lips. Involuntarily, of course.

The next moment he found himself being pushed back a step, two, until his back collided with the wall and Finn's lips crushed his. Even if he wanted to free himself, he couldn't, what with Finn's left fist tangled in between Master Yoda, Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker on his chest, his right arm pressed against the wall behind his back, whole body pushing at him and Finn's thigh – oh, god, Finn's thigh! – forcing his legs apart and kneading against his groin.

Bellamy didn't want to free himself. At all. Instead he reached and pulled Finn's jacket all the way down and lowered his head to that spot where the shoulder met the neck and the touch of lips against skin was electric.

Finn groaned. His hot breath tickled Bellamy's ear.

Bellamy's other hand found its way to Finn's hip, pulled the hem of the shirt up and thrust the fingers under the belt of his pants until their tips met the bone. Finn was skinny. Didn't look it, always wearing baggy clothes, but his bones were sharp and hard where they pressed against Bellamy's.

Bones and...

Other things.

He thrust and ground and Bellamy's body responded with agreeable motion and felt heat rising from the bottom of his stomach up to the chest and arms and where Finn bit his earlobe hard enough to be felt but not enough to be painful.

"You know why I hate you?" Finn whispered. Air brushed Bellamy's earlobe and sent shivers down his spine. "'cause you're so fuckin' perfect. You ooze self confidence and authority. They would all follow you to hell and back." He licked his ear, then pushed off, looked into Bellamy's eyes from three inches away, his pupils blown, dark irises nearly black in the shadows of the basement, and so full of inner turmoil, Bellamy felt his stomach crunch. Finn's hand held the back of Bellamy's head, fingers entangled in the curls on his nape. "Hell, I would," he chuckled mirthlessly. "You had the band wrapped around your little finger in three seconds flat. You had me wanting this before I even knew your name."

Bellamy gaped at Finn for a long while, unable to form the words.

"I am not confident," he uttered finally. "At all."

"You make a good impression then." Finn attacked his lips again.

If anyone was confident in this setting it was Finn, Bellamy thought. He wanted this and he took it. He devoured Bellamy like a giant predatory feline and spat him out spent, unable to remember his own name, with sticky wetness inside his pants. Bellamy vaguely registered Finn cry out at the same time his own world exploded in ten thousand fireworks.

Then Finn promptly turned around and threw all CDs from the bookshelf with a strong swipe of his arm.

Bellamy's brain refused to sober up immediately. It took Finn punching the wall with enough force to break bones for Bellamy to jump up and grab his hand.

"What the hell are you doing?" He glared at torn knuckles and gingerly touched bones in Finn's palm and wrist. "You'll have to be able to play. We have a concert in... uh... I don't even want to know. Too soon, I don't know if we're gonna make it and I think we should change. Geez. Are you okay? Finn?" Bellamy looked up finally and saw that Finn's face was wet with tears. "What?..."

"I didn't want to do this," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

Bellamy wasn't sure if he was referring to punching the wall, the CDs or the sex. But if it was the latter...

He reached out and touched Finn's face, cupped it gently and pushed up, until he forced Finn to meet his eyes, all the while holding Finn's damaged hand in his other palm.

"I think you did," he replied, also in a low voice. "You wanted this and so did I and it was..." how was he supposed to call it? "Spectacular. But now we have to pull ourselves together and get to Weather Hall. I think we can still make it. You have pants to change? I have mine in the car."

Finn closed his eyes and shook his head. "I'm not going." He pulled his hand from Bellamy's hand and shuffled a few steps away.

"What are you talking about?"

"I said, I'm not going." Finn looked at Bellamy, sniffed, patted his pockets and took out a torn tissue. Wiped his eyes and nose.

Bellamy stood, speechless. Only when Finn leaned to pick up his jacket, discarded on the floor, he regained his voice.

"Monty said..." he started but Finn cut in.

"Monty will understand." And Bellamy knew enough about the band dynamics already to believe this statement to be true. But then Finn added, "I want you off the band, too," and Bellamy knew that would also happen if he let it.

"No," he responded instinctively.

He expected Finn to fight him on it, but Finn only bit his lower lip and nodded. "Okay," he sighed, turned to grab his guitar, passed by Bellamy and vanished up the stairs.

Damn. This was not how it was supposed to play out. This was all insane and Bellamy felt his head spinning. To go from antagonism, to absolute ecstasy, to such explosion of anger, all in five minutes? He was shaking inside and he was only on the receiving end. How could Finn stand having such conflicting emotions inside?

And what about the damn concert?

Bellamy pulled out his cell-phone and dialed Monty at the same time frantically searching for his backstage pass in the rumble of CDs on the floor. What the hell was wrong with Finn?

"Don't tell me you'll be late!" Monty welcomed him without a 'helo'.

"I'm at the basement. Forgot my pass, don't ask. You'll never guess who I found here."

There was a brief silence on the other end, followed by a sigh and a knowing, "Finn."

"You guessed."

"How is he?"

That was not exactly the question Bellamy expected, but to be honest, he should have. It seemed to fit the situation.

"Well." He hesitated. "How do I put it. Unbalanced? We kind of argued, kind of not quite. Then he cried a little and then he left."

"Go after him." Bellamy heard urgency in Monty's voice that didn't surprise him, even if it made small hairs at his nape stand on end and his heart rate increase. "Find him and don't let him out of your sight. We're on our way, I'll call you when we're near." The call disconnected. Bellamy gaped at his phone for good three seconds before the implied message kicked in.

Don't let him out of your sight.

Why?

Could he hurt himself?

Bellamy ran up four steps at a time, then through the front yard and onto the street. Left? Right? Finn was nowhere in sight, only an old lady with a dog in the distance. If he went to ask her if she saw a young man with a guitar, Finn might be far away in the other direction. Bellamy ran his hand through his hair in frustration and looked around once more.

And there, he noticed a figure on the front porch of Monty's house. He stepped back immediately. Finn sat squatted, desolate, elbows resting on his knees, both hands holding his head. He trembled. At least he had enough reason to not go away.

"Finn?" Bellamy approached him with hesitation. All he got in response was a sniffle and a single movement when Finn pulled both his palms from his hair, to hide his face in them. Then he gave a small shake of his head. "Are you okay?" Bellamy asked, like an idiot that he was, sitting down next to Finn.

"No," came a muffled answer. Then Finn wiped his face in a gesture as frustrated as it was desperate and half-turned to Bellamy, without meeting his eyes. "Did you call Monty?"

"Yeah. Yes, I did."

"What did he tell you?"

"To look out for you."

"Yeah, he would do that." Finn nodded, gaping at his palms, picking at the scabbing cuts on his knuckles. "He doesn't need to worry though, I won't do anything stupid. I just..." he spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. "The concert... I thought I could handle this, but it's too much. It was just too much."

"Sure." Bellamy nodded, even though he had no idea what this was all about.

He wanted to know, however - he realized. He wanted to know what he could do to make Finn hurt a little less, because it was obvious that he was in pain. Maybe not physical but pain nonetheless.

Without much conscious thought he put his arm over Finn's shoulders, gently but Finn flinched and cast him a glare. Bellamy took his arm back, abashed.

"You may stay," Finn spoke in that guarded way that made Bellamy recoil. "You may watch me, I get it. But don't think for a second that we are friends."

Bellamy took it in stride. When Monty and the rest of the band drove up half an hour later, that's how they found them, sitting next to each other in silence, only broken by Finn's after-shock-like hiccups and sniffing. Bellamy met Monty's eyes and if Monty had wanted to tell Bellamy that he might go home now, he quickly changed his mind. Bellamy wasn't going anywhere. It didn't matter if Finn considered him a friend, or if he wanted him around.

Right now Bellamy knew what he wanted and he was going to get it. He was here to stay.

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><p>.end<p>

**A/N: **Thank you for reading.


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